


Day 8: Day off (Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies)

by chiralchaos



Series: Turkstober 2020 [7]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, Post-Crisis Core (Compilation of FFVII), Turkstober2020, everything hurts and nothing is fine, like literally hours after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26902432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiralchaos/pseuds/chiralchaos
Summary: He shouldn’t be here now. It should be Reno, but he‘s cataloging the belongings of a dead SOLDIER. It should be Rude, but he‘s flying the helicopter over the bodies their target left in his wake. It can’t be anyone else, but it shouldn’t be him either.Tseng goes to visit Aerith after they find Zack. Set immediately after Crisis Core, where everything hurts and nothing is ok.
Series: Turkstober 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965964
Comments: 11
Kudos: 22
Collections: Turkstober 2020





	Day 8: Day off (Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies)

It’s always a gamble when he walks through the slums, especially by himself, as to whether or not people warily give him space or if they foolishly try to get aggressive with him. He is grateful for the fact that today seems to be one of the former, not a single soul trying to converse with him as he strides across the dirt streets, cutting a line through people who seem quick to clear his path. He is grateful because he is numb, and entirely on autopilot, and in truth he isn’t sure what he would do to anyone foolish enough to challenge him on his way through the sector. The photos Reno had sent just hours ago are burned into his mind, the hesitation, regret in the younger Turk’s voice as he made the call, the words “Boss, we found him” and “We were too late” on loop in his ears. He had been alone in the office when Reno contacted him to confirm what they’d found, preparing to go and take up his shift watching the Ancient, but the call had frozen him to the spot. How could he leave now? How could he watch over her for the evening without telling her, without saying “I can’t do my job because my friend has been killed, and that friend of mine was utterly devoted to you”?

But she is an Ancient, he had reminded himself. Which means maybe, maybe, she already knew.

Choosing to skirt duty, to avoid her, felt even more deceptive to him, and this is why he finds himself below the plate. He checks in first at her house, because it’s the right thing to do. Elmyra hates him, always has (and rightfully so, he thinks, self-deprecation running high), but she never fails to tell him where the girl is, and taking that information he of course finds himself at the doors of the old abandoned church.

It feels sacred today, an unusual feeling for a man who does not believe in god, and the leather of his gloves pressed against the wooden door feels blasphemous. He lets himself in loudly, letting the sound of the door announce his presence so he doesn’t have to. Aerith is inside, as expected, and she offers him a small smile just a split-second too late - he had caught her off-guard, and he saw a very different expression there before she could change it.

“You’re late,” she says chidingly, brushing off her dress which seems somehow dark and heavy.

“And you look cold,” he responds. He gestures to the dress. “Did I miss the rain?”

“It was only a little bit,” she confirms, “But the flowers seemed to have enjoyed it!”

The usual mirth in her voice is wrong, it’s off. She’s hiding something, pretending, and it throws Tseng because he’s never known her to be anything other than what she is; she’s never had to act in front of him, and she’s bad at it.

“Well, careful you don’t catch a cold,”

She chuckles politely at the comment but pulls her jacket closer around her nonetheless, and tightens the ribbon in her hair. “And you be careful you don’t run yourself down!” she responds. “You look tired. Did you oversleep?”

He returns the polite chuckle, but his is so much more hollow. What is this nonsense dance they’re doing, this pretense, this pretending they’re ok when there is no way they can be? He feels anger beneath the numbness.

“You should take some time off,” she says jokingly, “Surely even Shinra’s elite bad guys are allowed a day off from time to time, right?”

She turns and busies herself with the flowers before Tseng has time to fake another smile, and he watches her without really seeing, too lost in thought. He thinks about it. What IF he took a day off? What if he stopped watching her for just one day, looked the other way, let her run far, far away to where the Shinra could never find her? It would be so easy, he thinks, and the thought becomes dangerous as it builds momentum. She could get on a boat and go to the other continent, he thinks, or go even further, all the way to Wutai, Or what if there really was a promised land, like both her people and his believed. She would be safe there, surely. He would take the bullet, be the one to “lose” her. The president would be angry, take him off task, and send the other Turks out to find her. They wouldn’t know either. And then if the Turks couldn’t find her …

It all comes crashing down too quickly, the reality turning his stomach, forcing him to reach back to the cold stone wall behind to ground himself as he realises what happened last time the Turks couldn’t find someone they were tracking down.

He wants to be sick.

He shouldn’t be here, he thinks, unable to think straight, nausea born from lack of sleep, guilt and something even heavier building in his gut. He breathes in through his nose, forcing his professional demeanor in place, wearing it like armour, but it feels as fake as Aerith’s earlier merriment. They’re lying to each other, he knows this. They’re both just acting. Neither of them knows for sure what the other knows.

“You’re very quiet today,” Aerith points out suddenly, melodic voice cutting through his thoughts.

“Aren’t I always?” he offers in response, speaking automatically, gesturing with a gloved hand. She looks up from the flowers she’s tending, something like concern on her face.

“Sometimes more than others,” she says. She stands up to face him, head tipped as she studies him across the room. “Did something happen?”

He’s not ready for this. He doesn’t want to talk about it because he hasn’t even processed it for himself yet. How can he tell her what he doesn’t fully understand himself? How can he tell her that his pain, soon to be hers too, is all his fault? How can he tell her he let her down?

“We … lost a friend today,” he says unthinkingly. He doesn’t realise how out of character it sounds until the words leave his mouth.

“Oh …” Aerith hesitates somewhat. It feels strange, offering condolences. She knows what kind of work he does, but nonetheless ... “I’m sorry,” she offers. “Was it … a friend from work?”

“Yes,” he says simply, and he lowers his eyes slightly, not able to look at her. Her concerned expression deepens but there is something mixed with the concern, something far more painful to see. There is a weight that settles in her stomach as she thinks of the sudden downpour earlier, of how cold the rain was, and how very, very deliberately she ignored what her instincts told her it had meant.

“Was it … a Turk?” she asks. She doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to tell her. She sees him try to answer and fail, and instead he just shakes his head, looking away.

Aerith is quiet, her eyes still on him as he looks resolutely out the far window. His mind is running at a million miles an hour and he feels frozen in sudden fight or flight as the events of the last 48 hours threaten to finally topple around him. He shouldn’t be here now. It should be Reno, but he‘s cataloguing the belongings of a dead SOLDIER. It should be Rude, but he‘s flying the helicopter over the bodies their target left in his wake. It can’t be anyone else, but it shouldn’t be him either. As for Aerith, she feels like she is made of lead. Tseng isn’t talking about who her gut says he is talking about. That isn’t a possibility.

The flowers had enjoyed the rain, though.

“Tseng?” she says finally. She has stepped closer, and her voice seems to amplify the silence around them. His eyes suddenly lock onto hers, and he can’t for the life of him tear them away. All he can hear is his own heartbeat. He doesn’t want to say it. She doesn‘t want him to either. “If I asked you who it was …” she continues, deliberate and careful, “You would tell me, wouldn’t you?”

His eyes flicker, He was trained to lie, and whether he likes it or not it’s one of the things he does best. But not to her. He takes a deep breath and sets his jaw, accepting that once he tells her there is no going back. He nods. “Yes.”

Aerith studies him closely, looking deeply into his eyes for something he‘s not sure of. He tries to tell her everything with them. It was his fault. They weren‘t fast enough. She can hate him, but he can‘t let her go. He can’t.

She silently comes to a conclusion, and she nods too.

“Then I won’t ask,” she says, “OK?”

The flowers had thrived in the downpour.

* * *

(He walks her home that night, his suit jacket draped over her shoulders to keep the cold at bay. They are mostly silent until they begin to approach her house, when she turns to him.

“I stopped writing, you know,” she says, “The letters. I gave the last one to someone else, ” She has the false merriment back in place, the old cheerful tone. He knows it’s a front, but he silently thanks her for it.) 

(“Do you think it made it in time?”) 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 8 of Turkstober2020: Day Off (give me a happy prompt and I will make it devastating for you)
> 
> In years of watching over Aerith I doubt that Tseng would have lied to her about what happened to Zack, but she is still shocked to see him in the Lifestream (despite her reaction at the end of Crisis Core). I figured this is how it happened - she didn't want to hear it, he didn't want to tell her, and they never spoke of it again. Ask Tseng no questions, he'll tell you no lies.
> 
> All comments welcome, I have Very Intense Feelings about Crisis Core and will gladly discuss it forever.


End file.
